Sunshine in a Raining Day
by KaitoKaren
Summary: The King of Solaria encounter a great illness, and he has not waken up for days. Devastated as she can be, Stella is still forced to take over the work, and also has to deal with Countess Cassandra and her daughter while worrying over her father. Brandon is by her side, but he has no clue how to help her. How will they do?
1. Chapter 1

**Sunshine in a Raining Day**

Rate: K+ (just randomly putting a rate in)

Genre: (mostly) Romance

Disclaimer: I don't own Winx Club.

Author's note before you start reading: This is, I must admit, a really strange piece of work. Whether you understand it or not, don't worry, it's not your fault. I'm just struggling myself over my SAT critical reading score (which is miserably 450 btw), and therefore start dwelling in vocabulary. But there are just too many words to remember, and each of them makes no logical explanation at all. Cantankerous? I mean, is that even English? So finally, I come up with this idea, to write a story when I study vocabulary, using the words that I learn. At first, it was only 28 words, and I planned to write a one-shot only, but then I got too vigorous and kept writing more, and next to me is nearly 90 words, with a CHAPTER. Yes, a CHAPTER, not any one-shot. I don't know if I can keep this fiction steady or not, but I will try my best not to lose my enthusiasm (for the story and for my score, too!). So somewhere in the fic, you will find several **bolded **words, which are the ones that I need to learn. I want to write it this way to keep track of my process. So don't let it bother you too much when reading!

Oh and don't forget to review, too!

Stella is the princess of Solaria, the Kingdom of the Sun. As **ebullient** as she used to be, in this **poignant** moment, when her father has fell ill, she cannot portrait a proper smile. Not for her people, not for her boyfriend, not for herself.

She is currently extremely depressed, completely the opposite of her usual **jubilant** appearance. Even with Brandon, the squire whom she adores so much, she could not help but become **cantankerous** around him, for he was always trying to lighten up her mood in vain. She spent days and nights going back and forth in his Majesty's bedroom, staring pointlessly at his pale figure on the golden royal bed, and **hoarded** herself with **rancor** and responsibilities, for being his only daughter yet not able to do anything to help him.

The brown-haired squire was once annoyed at how **capricious** his girlfriend's mood can be, swinging from **buoyancy** to spontaneous agony, but right now, he feels helpless at her **ingrained** melancholy. The whole castle is drowned in this continuous depression, whose atmosphere is gradually becoming so suffocating that he can hardly endure any longer.

Fortuitously, there are still people who by no means are affected by the king's illness. That would be Countess Cassandra and her _**ostentatious **_daughter Chimera. Wealth and power have already **inoculated** them against any moral feeling or emotions that they might have for their fiancé/father-to-be. And right now, those two are storming their foot towards the king's bedroom, making a tumultuous entrance.

"I have heard that His Majesty had encountered a dangerous sickness," greeted Countess with sympathy on her face. Trying as hard as he could, Brandon could never understand fully the power of women when they put on an act. "What a horrible misfortune that has come upon this kingdom! Trust me with my words, Princess Stella, that I have done my best to run here as soon as I heard the news. We must convene a meeting among the elders right now, to determine who should take over the control of Solaria!"

Grimaced at the woman's fakeness, Stella cries out. "Dear _beloved mother_, would you please refrain yourself a bit, not to wake up father's rest? Are you blind not to see that his illness here is more important than the politics you are blabbering about? For I, Princess Stella, am still holding the **stewardship** of the palace, what is there for you to worry about? Or are you trying to **rescind** whatever my father's wish was, and **cogitating** some **virulent** plan that will bring you **opulence**?"

Much to his surprise, his girlfriend is speaking _calmly_. Which she certainly never did in front of this mother-daughter couple before. The squire was quite sure that as soon as the door opened and Countess Cassandra's figure appeared, his princess would immediately stand up, point at them and shout or utter any kind of insult she could think of, for she is not someone who would stand back to something like this. He had thought that these women would be able to _**invigorate**_her somehow, albeit in a negative way. But reality disappointed him, when he realized that his princess' depression has reached a new level.

"_Dearly sister_," the cocky purple-haired speaks out. But of course, since she is not suffering from the distress for the king, her attitude and immatureness remains the same. "Are you trying to imply that we are here to talk about what we deserve to have after the king dies? Don't be so arrogant, Stella, who do you think you are? And do you think that your so-called **renown** with the Winx will help you get through this, and that you can be able to get the throne? You _gotta _be kidding me!"

Now _that_'s what he calls 'language'. As of what Chimera has announced, he could fully understand and interpret, and would have truly appreciated it had she not expressed it so loudly.

"Chimera, watch your mouth!" Growled her mother, before the countess continues what she has left. "Princess Stella, please do not misunderstand our good wills, if you would like. I, for myself have learned politics ever since I was young, know for sure that the most **intrinsic** mission to do when a leader fell into diseases is that his system remain and be taken over by someone as wise as he was. The **zeitgeist** of this kingdom has never fallen, princess, because the king has handled it so well. But right now, princess, _forgive_ me for being so **utilitarian** despite of how **innocuous** a person I am, I must say that this kingdom will fall, if we do not do anything. I am not doing this because it is lucrative for me, but because it would be what His Majesty wishes for if he could regain his consciousness as well."

Some few courtiers witnessing in the room at that time also nod their heads in agreement to what the Countess has stated. It is true that the kingdom needs a leader, but is speaking about that problem right in front of the king's bed considered appropriate?

But since this is Countess Cassandra who we are talking about, a woman who has once even sold her soul to evils in exchange for manipulating the king, there is nothing she cannot do to get the throne. To **intensify** the situation, an **exultant** smirk appears on the fiancé's face when she heard the elders' footstep come closer.

"Princess Stella!" One of the old men exclaims. "You must leave His Majesty to the maids right now, and come to the main hall. The citizens who have problems are await outside, as they have no one to meet them. If this prolongs, there will be an uproar."

Oh how Brandon **abhors** whoever or whatever that is trying to **hamper** his little princess so much. A daughter who is mourning over her father's illness, and they cannot be so generous as to give her the right to do so? Just how long will this palace plan to **maltreat** his princess? How can they be so blind not to see one **tangible** fact that the more they **placate** her and ease her from this pain, the faster she will be able to fix the situation? But instead they choose the difficult way and trample on her feelings? Frustration **billows** inside his chest, making his fingers form into fists.

"That is not very thoughtful of you, elder. How **reprehensible** of you, not seeing that Princess Stella is now in no mood to meet the citizens?" Countess Cassandra questions, raises her eyebrow in an unsatisfied way, completely contrast to how **effervescent** she was when the elders first came in. Her being considerate towards Stella can only be reasonable as a **harbinger** of the end of the world, knowing who she is just a few seconds before. However, things soon come to light and reveal her **counterfeit** nature as she speaks again. "Let the Princess stay her with her dear father, for she **blatantly** cannot handle the politics. She will just be too emotional and upset over His Majesty's illness, and disappoint the citizens. Can you not see this, elders? In front of you standing not a princess, but a pitiful daughter!"

"Stop your **derogatory** words, Countess, you have no rights to…"

Stella, who has been remaining still and **placid**, quietly enduring the insults and drama about her playing right in front of her eyes, stops her precious boyfriend from interfering for her.

"Enough, Brandon." She whispers, "You don't have to do this."

He, at that time, cannot understand how she could take all this ridiculous **abasement** from that virulent woman. Has she decided to **relinquish** her pride, her self-esteem, and let the **blasphemy** go on? Has she given up? Or has she admitted defeat, and admitted that Cassandra was right, about her being overtaken by pain? The **omnipresent** inquiry is slowly killing him, turning into an **incentive** that he could just pull out his sword and threaten anyone who dares to raise a word against his princess right now, so much that he fears just one more subtle sound is already enough to **ignite** him, to break him into violence. But he catches that tranquil and **forthright** look in her eyes, staring at him as to tell him to simmer down. His **deficiency** in keeping patience is not easy to be settled down, but he tries his best, turning away from the scene to pull himself together.

"_Mother,_" Stella speaks again, quiets the murmuring of the elders. "I would be much _**exhilarated**_, if you could be so kind not to bind me to your judgment. How do you know whether or not I am sinking in depression for my father, so much that I cannot be decisive enough for the kingdom? Has my **nuance** **engendered** you to be so **credulous** over my **enshrouded** ability? Are my years being raised in the palace in vain? Certainly not, _dear mother_, if you know enough about our tutors, we have the best tutors in this whole Magix dimension. I will now come and meet the citizens right away. Prepare my cloak!"

The servant cowers, probably due to Stella's fearful tone, and disappears behind the silvery door. Seconds later, he comes back with the king's royal cloak.

"_Mother,_" Stella glares towards the woman, who's **tawdrily **beautifulface is now **blighted** by frustration, and whispers the words as she passes by. "I would solve whatever **knotty** puzzle or labyrinth you push upon me. However, be careful not to **hasten** the process, and make sure to **abstain** that **haughtiness** of yours, or else, it will create **laceration** in your _flawless_ plan, and bring you down instead. You would not want to kneel before me and beg for **absolution** and forgiveness, would you, _mother_?"

Leaving Countess Cassandra speechless, she walks away from the bedroom and the **tardy** elders who now do not even dare to breathe.

Brandon lets out a sigh. He does not know if he should be glad or worried. This **conspiratorial** change in Stella scares him even more than when she was deep down in misery. He should be **ecstatic** to hear her speak so much, especially with such **serene** attitude. Nevertheless, he keeps feeling that she is just being **obdurate**, and forcing herself to take up the responsibilities. Why does she have to do that? What **remuneration** can she get out of this, he cannot understand. His girl is suffering so much, yet all that he could do is to watch her break down every day. Repudiates to accept the current situation, the squire takes out his phone, and dials a familiar number.

The Winx. They are the only ones that can help her stand strong right now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sunshine in a Raining Day**

**Chapter 2**

Bloom, Flora, Musa, Tecna and Aisha rushes to Solaria palace. Ever since Bloom received the call from Brandon – connected through Sky – she immediately **abrogated** whatever homework that Miss Faragonda assigned, and called the other girls. Without even discussing what they should do first, the girls transports through the magical gate to where their best friend is.

"Stella!"

Cried all of them, simultaneously, when the **parlor** door opens. There she is, their blond-haired girl, who used to have that jubilant expression filled with **mirth **before this came to her. They did not expect her to be **lachrymose** all of a sudden, either, but this cold and soulless **countenance** of hers saddens them so much. It **obfuscates **them, for she is hiding her real emotion so deep, just to satisfy the rest of the kingdom that she is worthy to rule over in the king's absence.

"You look like a doll." Commented Musa, walking over to the throne. She is not wrong – Stella is just staring at her and the Winx, waving at them with a robotic attitude, in the same way as she waved any other citizen who had greeted her few minutes ago. "Stop this **tedium** now, and please return to the **blithe** self before, when you have the **plethora** of **zest**!"

Still saying nothing, Stella remains unmoved. Either she has not heard her friend's words, or she could not understand what the purple-headed wanted to say. When finally snapped out of it, she speaks, almost in a monotone:

"I am okay."

"No, Stella, you are not!" Bloom denied, she is still in shock of how her best friend who was once replete with confidence and even vanity, can be in such a miserable state. "You are in no mood to attend the citizens, and you know that! Stella, please, stop **repudiating** your true feelings, and put down the mask!"

She abhors that mask. The emotionless mask that Stella apparently picked up somewhere in her father's bedroom. It makes her look **lackluster**, and nothing more than just a **precarious** **blunderbuss** who is willing to fall down any moment. Her Stella is not like this!

"Bloom." Exclaimed Stella in a placid voice, yet still somewhat pleading. "I need some time alone to think over this. Don't try to persuade me, it will only **exacerbate** what's already terrible right now. I understand your good intentions, but please don't make my head hurt any more than this."

Seeing no point in continuing, Bloom and the girls leaves the room. They want to do something for their friend right now, but if they do it wrong, it might very well counter the initiative intention.

Brandon has already been waiting outside the parlor, looking **obnoxiously** worried. Seeing the girls come up with helplessness on their faces, he knows they could not do anything more than what he had tried.

"Don't worry," comforted Flora, albeit her voice does not sound very persuasive, as if she is trying to convince even herself. "Stella will be fine. She's just… She's just needing some time, that's all. That's what she said. She will think it over."

The squire just nods, unwilling to discuss any further. Being able to meet Stella, the glorious princess of Solaria, and able to become her boyfriend, he thought it was the **felicity** of his life. It was, indeed, to some certain extent. However, now he realizes that there are more than just the title of 'princess' that his girlfriend bears. One must always remain **sober**, decisive, and even **complaisant** in this **pompous** palace, having allies or not. It does not bring weight to the matter if she is a lonely girl. A ruler is not allowed to keep too much emotions in mind, and must be ready to face any situation. He knows that right now, Stella is playing that role correctly, that she is now a perfect heir of the previous **estimable** king, who is **prestigious** enough to have the trust of the people. Yet he feels this is wrong. He feels that this is not how it supposed to turn out. At this rate, the people of Solaria will have their desired queen, but _he_ will lose his precious girl.

Meanwhile, in another parlor - which is **profuse** in maids and footmen, lightened with hundreds of diamond pieces around the room, so pompous that anyone would be able to tell that the owners are of royalty – Chimera is stomping back and forth, teeth gritted furiously while mumbling about the girl she has just encountered.

"What an insolent fool!" She exclaims in her ear-wrecking **enunciation**, sending the flower vase to the floor. "That **supercilious** attitude of her, such mediocre-looking girl! Who does she thinks she is?"

"The real princess of Solaria." Answered her mother, who is now sitting serenely next to the window. Her face turns towards the outside scenery, so that no one can guess what she is having in mind. "For the last time, Chimera – watch your tongue. Your impatience can exacerbate the situation. The odds will be with us soon, Chimera. And you are **apt** to remain **obsequious**, at least for now, to create good impression in the eyes of the elders. Act like a princess. That's what they want."

The girl seems deep in thought for a moment, as she tries to digest her mother's **convoluted** advice. Then turning to the mirror, she adores her wonderful appearance, along with the **indigo**-colored hair that she always boasts about. How can that blonde win against her? That's ridiculous.

"Sweetheart, get some **humility**." Growled her mother, not looking very happy to see the daughter dreamingly adores herself like that.

"Mother, there's nothing wrong with adoring something beautiful!" She cried. "Look, this royal **cerulean** **raiment** that I am wearing which matches the color of my hair so much, and all this makeup that has used up a **decimation** of the kingdom's resources. Do I look **indigent**? Not at all. **Decorous**, and somewhat **esoteric**, I'd say."

"All **flotsam**." Disagreed her mother. "And you did not used up a decimation of our resources! Such **bigot**. Don't go tell that to anyone in the castle."

"My queen, please don't be so harsh on the princess. After all, she was not wrong to admit her beauty in such an open way."

A deep male voice rises up from the entrance, attracting the two women's attention in the room. Standing at the door is a black-haired man, his silver eyes glowing in shadow like those of a hungry wolf in the wild. His appearance bears a mythical aura, and Chimera cannot be certain whether this **loquacious** – or at least he would be if she were to ask him more, for she **viscerally **knows that he has sweet mouth – man is worth of her trust or not. **Prudence **is still the best, and though in such a **milieu** that she is tangibly the 'villain', Chimera is not that **tedious.**

"Introduce yourself," she demands, taking a step back while her mother remains placid.

"Why, Joseph, make yourself at home."

Chimera looks at her mother, almost unbelievably. "Mother, I'm trying not to **affront** you, but how could you be so calm? He could be one of those ridiculous Specialists or whatever that sides with that **hypocritically amiable** Stella."

"Oh Chimera, my eyes for people is developing **abstemiously**, and I know for sure who is friend or foe. Whatever type of information about my personality can be **percolated **throughout the kingdom, but I did not achieve this Countess title by accident. Let me **edify **that little brain of yours, daughter, and witness my **preeminence**, for when the **belligerent** and **pugnacious **me am really serious about something, there is no **concession** for the enemy. And do you want to hear my **prognosis** about how this whole thing is going to end? The **venerable **princess of the Sun, trembling in fear and **remorse **that she dared to face Countess Cassandra. And this is just a **retrenchment **of reality."

Such strong though **laconic** **dictum,** though it was exaggerated by a bit of **bombast, **has **impugned **Chimera to be more and more fired up about getting the Princess title. In fact, the Princess title and the treasure that she would gain from getting the throne has now become just a side story. The main victory is when she really gets to see the miserable side of Stella.

"So what are you planning to do with this _handsome_ man, mother?" Smirked playfully, Chimera wanders towards Joseph and touches his cheek. "Seems **mercurial **enough to serve me. Great figure. **Tenable.** That's what I'd say, but are you really capable of doing anything, sweetie pie?"

"Such compliments from the princess leave me no way to **reciprocate** what I have just heard, Princess, since you are already more beautiful than any words could have ever described." Keeping his bright smile, Joseph shows no sign of **irascibility **or annoyance upon the skin contact of the other girl.

"Tsk, what a wicked man." Murmured Chimera, letting go of him.

"Stop your **churlishness,** Chimera!" Cried her mother. "Joseph here is my **reconnaissance** of the palace."

"Oh?" Chuckled the indigo-haired. "Is that why he looks so **ossified** and not **candid **at all? Mother, how can you trust someone who can **phlegmatically **hide his **perfidy** without failure like this?"

The Countess massages her temples, and is half surprised at how **verbose** her daughter could be at such trivial matter. "Right, it is dangerous for such a gamble, but I do not wish to **jettison** this opportunity to overthrow the throne heir, and more over," she turns to Joseph who is standing patiently at the door. "I hope this will not **antagonize **you, but you do understand what **aspersion **will bring, correct? And what we have negotiated was **mollified** plenty, you should know that."

Joseph forms a smile on his face, but his eyes show no sign of laughter. "As a matter of fact, your Highness. You need not to **mitigate** the punishment, because in the beginning there was no need for mentioning it at all. I have never **derailed** keeping my credibility of trust with customers. If I were to break this vowel, I would have live **aloofly **and be estranged from society, and my face would not have been standing here speaking to you. I am a man of words."

"I am trying not to be too **censorious**, but beside **adulation**, what else do you have?" Questioned Chimera, still disbelieve in the stranger.

"Oh princess, I suppose that was my _**candor**_ you are talking about there." He chuckles **affably**. "**Cajoling** is not the only thing I am good at."

And to prove his words, Joseph holds his left hand up to the face, and within a blink of an eye, his facial appearance changed. At first, he makes himself into a swarthy boy with such familiar features that Chimera often sees this guy wandering around one of the Winx. The next one is a blonde guy whom she often finds with Bloom, the fiery-haired girl. **Analogously,** he changes into every single Specialist, and she finally knows for sure what his power is.

With a bit of **fatuous discomfiture **in her **raucous** voice, Chimera murmurs. "Disguising."


	3. Chapter 3

Dawn falls. The **poised** princess of the Sun kingdom was **enervated** and **languid**, as she has already gone through piles after piles of **epistles **from other nations without any **hiatus** but the occasional **respite** from the consorts bringing even more papers. The **volatile **emotional side of hers makes it more difficult to concentrate on meaningless letters, and she sometimes found herself giving only a **cursory** glance, while **vigilantly **reading other epistles without any particular reason. She was losing **acuity.** If it was her last month, or last week, any moment before the King fell ill, she would have remained that **boorish** princess who would casually sneak out **furtively **to get food, or just skip the whole thing. However, despite the unwillingness at present, her **acquiescence** was so **obscure **that the consorts actually mistook it for the **ardent** attitude of a workaholic, as she did not utter even a single complaints and just focused on the papers. Some said that they were glad because Stella did not have the **truculence **of the **braggart **Chimera, and some believed that it was only because she wanted to prove her rights and powers as the one who possessed the **demise** from the King. Some said it was because of the unfortunate **nurture** that has created an ingenious and **resplendent **princess. But Stella pays no mind to the rumors, and refuses to be an **interlocutor**. She **abrogates** **vindicating** any part of the people's words, which **plagues** some of the governors, and even ignites **indisposition **towards the poor princess. Her friends continuously **bolstered **her, using everything they have to defend her, but it was futile since the main character of the rumor did not do anything.

She finds herself in **debacle, **and the room along with the clothes and everything around starts becoming **scanty** to her soul. She cannot breathe. No matter how **fervent **with work she might convince herself to be, no matter how **impetuous** she wants her mind to believe, she encounters failure and helplessness in front of the **deluged **desk. If she tries to be **veracious** with her conscience, she would know for sure that this body should have collapsed any moment, had it not been for her willpower. She feels so tired that if anyone were to enter the room right now, she would not be able to notice. Such **debility** at the moment can be the death of her, but she has no mind to care about that for now.

And someone _did_ enter the room, maybe few minutes ago.

Fortuitously, it was Brandon, who had been so worried about her that he was practically pacing back and forth for about half an hour outside before entering. And the scenery that he sees breaks his heart.

His princess seems to have all the **perspicacity **drawn out of her face, which leaves behind this **apathy** expression to everything else in the world. She looks **ascetic**.

"Stella!"

He cried, heartbroken at the **nonentity **in her eyes. She was never such a person. She was always buoyant, jubilant and extremely effervescent, sometimes even a little too **convivial**. She used to be a supercilious braggart and did not think about anyone else, too. She used to be so selfish and self-centered that sometimes he had to wonder why he liked her in the first place. But right now, he just wish if she could go back to that loquacious and carefree self, instead of this distant **oligarch** in front of him.

"Stella, you need rest."

Steps around the armors on the wall, Brandon picks up a lance. Knowing that there is no way she would listen to him saying this casually, he will just have to force her.

"Stella." He repeats, the top of the lance pointing at her. "I know you are not like any other girl, you do not have **acrophobia**, nor do you have any weird fear that I could just use. But at least, you should be able to detect danger when someone does this to you, right?"

She looks up at him, at the javelin, but nothing alters. She is not just some **bourgeois** girl who is playing acting. She is seriously into the work unconsciously here, and it sounds **incongruous** to the princess that she has to stop what she is doing. However, even she at that time viscerally feels the **ascendancy** of the weapon, so she could not ignore it.

"Are you going to stab me?" She asks.

Is that her **preamble** to the boyfriend who worries for her so much? It hurts him when he feels the coldness. Brandon chuckles ironically.

"How **robust** you are, Stella. How can I do that, when you have stabbed me already? **Obliquely, **in right here." He puts a hand on his left chest.

"I have not." Stella **bristled**. "Great to see you still have the humor to say such jokes. Brandon, don't you see that I'm working?"

As if he did not hear what the girl was warning, Brandon **broaches** closer, pushes the **tome **about **epistolary **aside, **advocating** her chin with his hand. Her frustration is somehow **defunct** with the contact of their skin.

"Brandon." The princess growls, but he could tell she is not unhappy about it. He feels as if she is trying hard to fight back her usual blithe self. "I will **postulate** that you are trying to commit a sexual **transgression** here, if you don't stop this childish act right now."

"You are starting to look **rotund**, princess." He puts on his **histrionically** surprised face, while **tittering.** "Have you not moved around lately? You will get fat just by doing nothing!"

Her eye brows turn into a frown, and she **juts **her head out of his grip, yelling: "Brandon!"

Brandon, as **omniscient** about his girl as he is right now, knows that her blank expression has been **allayed**. He suddenly feels like an **onus **has been lifted from his heart when he sees a small hint of smile deep inside her eyes. Her voice is such **euphony** to his ears, compared to all the past days' **cacophony** of the mother and daughter of Cassandra, **denouncing **to every single soldier in the palace to be their privilege bodyguards. Her soft cheeks feel like **liniment** to his skin, and before he knows it, both of his hands have already takes over her face, cuddling her cheeks like a baby. Just a little further, and he would have kissed her.

"I demand **retraction** from your fingers, gentleman." Stella, not being a **tractable**, remains firmly **omnipotent.** However, her strength cannot compare to that of a brawny man, and no matter how hard she tries to pluck his hands out, she fails.

"You still need to **hone** your **litheness**, if you want to beat me."

"Are you **deriding** me?"

Brandon shakes his head, **exculpating** himself for just wanting to tease her a bit, and by no means dare to cause a **tumult**. "Your body is weak," commenting him when examining her hands. "Are you even **ambulatory** in this state? **Desist **your work and get a rest, Stella. It's late already. A **lummox **cannot handle the paper well. This is not **precipitous **or anything…"

"What do you know?" Stella snaps back, refuses to leave her seat. "I ought to finish this as soon as possible, and this is nothing compared to what my father had to do. The officers might **sanction** a **truant**, but I myself do not. "

"I am just trying to **ameliorate **the situation, Stella, but it looks like you give me no choice." He whispers, and bends down his head. He **capitulates** to the **lukewarm** expression on her face, capitulates to the desire ignited from days to days not talking to her. A man cannot be **precluded** from staying by his girlfriend's side for too long. To **truncate,** his patience has ran out. She looks so **salacious** to him right now, and he swears to himself not to **deplore **even after this **precocious turpitude, **despite the **trepidation amassing** inside.

"B-Brandon… What are you planning to do… This is too close…" She **ordains **him to get away, but he remains unmoved. The parlor is **capacious**, but she feels so suffocating. His face is too close to hers. Her heart beats vigorously, so much that she fears even he might be able to hear. Half of her mind is filled with desire for him, but the other half is now crying out for being an **impious **daughter and **impoverished **heir. She feels somewhat **sanctimonious**, now that she is sitting by her working desk but thinking about various lustful things. She – the most **arbitrary** person in the kingdom at the moment – is falling for such a **trite **excuse?

At the moment he presses his lips against her, she views it as an **execrable** feelings. But this **deprecation **soon turns into **immoderate **pleasure, for the girl inside her has also been under pressure for too long. This side of her is **immutable**, and though it is **impromptu, **she still leans forward towards his lips, returning the kiss.

However, the **sagacious** side still wins, as she ends the kiss fast by biting lightly at his lower lip. "Stop it. You are **desecrating **this place."

He smiles with satisfaction that at least she had some reaction. "I am not. Just giving it a bit of **salutary** atmosphere, and **salubrious **motivation for its owner."

Sit back straight on the chair to **buttress **her appearance, Stella continues her gaze at the paper, completely ignores the boy standing beside.

"Sunshine ~" Brandon, refuses to be **despondent**, continues bothering her. "Get your eyes off that boring paper filled with **extraneous maelstrom**, and come play with me~ I know you want to~"

With **destitution** focusing on what she has to do, Stella **castigates. **"Brandon, just because you have the **prerogative **of my boyfriend, doesn't mean you can **incessantly** **overtly **disturb my work like that."

He chuckles at the **sardonic** tone in her voice. She is gradually gaining herself, at least mentally, and he considers that a half success. He has the **presentiment **that this will go well, therefore, he boldly pushes the epistles aside and slides his face in front of her. "Trust me, this will be **expedient**. Just take a half-an-hour break with me, it won't be long. And I promise I will not bother you tomorrow. It will even **expedite** your working speed."

Not that she believes him, but half of her already wants to hug him deeply, **nuzzle** with him and fall asleep for hours. And the other half of her urges the princess to focus on work, but she convinces herself that once Brandon stop interrupting her like he has promised, more work will be done.

Glaring at the boyfriend, she growls before standing up. "You'd better be grateful that I am **munificent** for putting up with you like this. If you don't keep your promise, I will **incarcerate **you. No, even worse, I will **lynch** you to death."

He bursts out laughing when she finishes her warning. His princess has a very big ego, so she does not want to look **sanguine** at this moment. But he knows for sure, as she threatens him 'to death', that her cheerfulness has come back, albeit **incipiently.**

"Very well, princess. I will be your **analgesic**. Come on, let's go!"

With that, he drags her out of the suffocating parlor into her own bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Joseph gets out of the Countess' parlor, feeling this overwhelming victory inside when he was able to stupefy that indigo-haired girl. She was so cocky that it took him every single piece of **decorum** not to jump out and strangle her, being an **anarchist** as he is. He has to be **reticent** right now, but when his plan is completed, he swears the discrepancy of hierarchy would be **obsolete,** and so would the **discomfiture** when his rights are **abridge**. He will **debunks **both the true and false princesses.

Now at that time, Joseph possesses a **brawny** body, therefore it is not too hard for him to disguise into one of the Specialists. His body is **adamant**, unlike his face, and this would be the weakness erring for him, if he does not pay attention. The Countess and her daughter seem to have yet discover this flaw, so he ought to make sure no one in the castle does. His **resolution** is simple: finish everything before anyone even discovers his power, avoiding as much **obliteration** as possible.

Stella is such a busy body today. She doesn't even have time to rest. To be **ponderous** with her work, she has no time to take food or any **restorative**, nor can she afford to **err** at any point. She also has no time to think about her ill father, and her body **languishes** over time. Lately in the kingdom, there have been several misdeeds happening, from the **larceny** in some small stores to youngsters **lampooning **the government and got through into detention center, **heeding** the **tirades **from some old officer women about their wrongdoings. **Misanthropes **also emerged, mostly from the rural area, but got oppressed quickly. She does not mind the wrongdoers to be punished for a better society, but she is troubled if every **aberration** brings her a stack of papers as presents. But in any means, the news of the fallen king seems to have percolated.

That even brings her to be **terser** and more **acrid** to herself. Brandon has already warned her about not overworking too much, but what else can she do? Is there even a reliable person in this palace? The kingdom has this **proclivity** towards doom if Countess Cassandra and her evil daughter Chimera were to **usurp** the throne. Such **specimen** has no **altruism** towards anyone but themselves, and no matter how **grandiose** the palace can be, they will strip it to the last penny for their own recreational purposes. It would have been wonderful if there could be a **caricature** to **epitomize** how ridiculous the future view would be then, however, there is none, and the whole government is nothing more than bigots who are **nullified** by the Countess.

The door opens, and she sees her boyfriend walking in. She does not expect to see his face, for some strange reason, she has predict something different. Probably the visceral thoughts of a girlfriend, but obviously it was wrong.

Stella did not know that her instinct was right. It is Joseph who walks in, **adroitly **disguises. He has this **cordial** expression on, the one that a boyfriend is trying to comfort his hardworking girl.

"Why don't you take a break?" He asks, handing her a cup of steaming coffee. "I brought this for you. Thought it might restore your strength."

She takes the cup, not knowing it was drugged, and smiles to him. "Thank you, Brandie. This is really what I need."

However, before she has a chance to take a slip, an officer ran in, looking **timorous**, panting nonstop before he kneels down and reports about the **hedonists** who know nothing but pleasure for themselves, and troubling the people very much, even go so far as to **envenom** families as they abuse the children. No one dares to stand up to them, and the soldiers are not strong enough against them. That is why the officer has to resort to asking the highest person right now.

"Those idiots need **retention**." Stella puts down her cup, and stands up immediately. "Brandon, sorry, but your coffee has to wait for another time. I have business to take care of."

"Wait!" Joseph rushes after the princess, **tentative** of what he has to do next, but follows her anyway. "What are you planning to do?"

"What else?" Stella looks at him. "I will go see and punish those hedonists myself."

Joseph rolls his eyes, assuming that the girl is just **pontificating** the fact, the way royals do. Their **harangue **might sound heart-lifting and wonderful, but their deeds are nowhere close to that **largess** they promised.

But to his surprise, the princess really does mean what she has said. It takes Stella few seconds to transform into her fairy outfit, and they needn't run, as the rebels have already arrived at the palace, standing outside beating the guards.

"I demand to meet the King right now!" Shouted a large-built man with a thick **plumage **of some weird bird wrapped around his shoulder, seems to be the leader. "I will take this **dearth** no more, give us money, give us good food, and give us fortune! We are stronger than all the men here, how comes are we living in poverty?!"

"Stop such ridiculous **reprimand**." Answered Princess Stella as she walks closer to the guards lying on the ground, putting up a gleam barrier around them to avoid any further injury. "Your **calumny** has no evidence. I have already received papers about your background, and with that much of fortune, you are doing just fine!"

"A woman?" He questions ironically, causing the crew to burst out in laughter. "Ha! Where are all the gentlemen of this place, so that they have to resort to such a slim girl like this? Hey, what can a wimp like you do? Can you even make a punch? And what's with that ridiculous wings behind your back? For decoration? Ha ha ha!"

"You done talking? If you cannot even beat a girl, then the **tenuous** disparities in gender don't matter that much, right? **Curtail** the formal speech and just come at me. I don't need to listen to the reasons from idiots who think only of themselves like you."

What Stella said has angered the man. As a matter of fact, no men would stand being mocked by a weaker woman, and he is not any exception. Gritted his teeth, he shouts to the crew:

"Looks like the Princess wants her era to **plummet** right when she has just got the throne! Let grant the girl her wish, guys!"

The group, full of brawny men, replete with desire for the power and fortune, are motivated enough to go all at once with an unarmed girl. However, this is an unlucky day for them, since Stella is not just any 'girl', and the foremost, she is not 'unarmed' either.

With a move of the hand, the Princess of the Sun created rays of light beam, throwing them against the rebels. No matter how strong a man can be, if he does not have any power of magic, he will never be able to win.

"Oh?" Stella smirks, crossing her hands in front of her chest. "I didn't know that you guys are so **ephemeral**. Is your spirit just that low? Is it already time for **resignation**?"

_Hmph. Is this kingdom __**rife**__ with __**odious **__fools? Such __**officious poseurs**__ like that, even if they come in __**legion**__, there is no problems at all._ Joseph chuckles quietly at the **bourgeois. **However, he would never think a royal would ever go and **obviate** such idiots like this. Either she is really something, or she is just a moron herself, digging her own grave when all she could have done is just **ensconcing** behind the palace's **bulwark.**

"You are a hundred years too early to pick a fight with me!" Declared Stella, pointing at the rebels trapped inside a magic net. "Even your **posthumous posterity** can't handle this nation's leaders, so don't even try."

With that **obstreperous** warning, she goes back inside. However, while walking along the hallway, Joseph notices somewhat** torpid** in her walking, as if she is **tottering**. He also notices her heavy breathing.

"What's wrong, Stella?" He asks, catches up to her.

"Nothing!" She answers, a bit **brusquely.** _Damn, my eyes can hardly even see. My legs can take it no longer. Did one transformation take this much energy before?_

"Stella, I think you're exhausted. Don't overwork yourself too much." Joseph gives out advice in a worried way, though in fact his hope is lightened that the Princess shows to be weakened. But Stella still obdurately abrogates, enshrouding her debility. She tells him to stop such **hyperbole**, and that it is just his imagination. _What a foolish princess._ He frowns. _This blunder will __**lavish**__ what she has been trying so hard to build up._

Joseph can already **portend** accurately the seconds until she falls. Due to the **adversity** in **polemical** stuffs she has endured until now, adding the energy she used up in work and fight, Stella – despite how hard she tries to deny – falls into **torpor** right in front of a danger that she has not yet been aware of.

The fake Brandon catches her. Half of him is **lauding** himself in **eulogy** for how effortless he has to be in capturing the victim, while the other half has somewhat of **deference** for the poor hardworking princess. He feels bad for using her and lying to her. However, those **erratic** emotions make him feel **histrionic**, so he quickly dumps them aside and focuses on how to deal with the blonde in his hands right now.

At that time, the real Brandon – having been dealing with the royal works in Eraklyon for Sky – has returned to Solaria. He went to check on Stella right away, but could not find her in her parlor. After a moment of **demur**, **ruminating** about what could have happened to the weak girl that is currently not in her right mind, he couldn't help but immediately rush out to seek after her. How could he **lax **so much about the **ruse **of evils rising inside the castle? How much will this **levity** cost him? If anything ever happens to his girl, he's afraid he will ever be able to forgive this **ignominy**!

And he comes just in time when Joseph was about to take his leave.

No words can **delineate** enough how **livid** he is at the scene. From the look of it, what happened is **pragmatically** all his fault. A man – looking exactly like him – is holding his unconscious princess in those filthy arms. And above all, her face looks so pale. She must have believed that she was talking with her real boyfriend, and completely bewitched by the bastard. How can he blame her? No matter how sharp she can be, with this **deleterious** mental state, he doubts she can even realize her best friends.

He feels the **alacrity **to run towards her and snatch her back as soon as possible overwhelmed in his body. Wasting no more time to **ogle **the unpleasant scene, Brandon draws out his sword.

"Oh?" Chuckles Joseph, still in Brandon's appearance. "Has the prince come to rescue his precious princess? Oh, sorry, my mistake. A _squire_. Too bad, she has chosen me. Don't worry, such an **onerous** boyfriend like you don't have to take care of this **sacrosanct** princess anymore. She will die soon. I'm sad for her **transient** fate, but it was her own blunder that pushed her this way. Now then, farewell!"

Before Brandon gets a chance to even **traverse** closer, Joseph throws out a bomb that distracts **olfactory** sense of the enemy, making the brown-haired Specialist step back in frustration.

His girl is taken away right in front of his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi guys! Thank you so much for the reviews (although I think it was for Chapter 1, but it was too late to edit on the other chapters, so I will just type it here).

I will check the paragraphs for shorter length (or construction, if that is what some of you think). Personally I think that length is suitable for the characters though, since mostly what I did was describing their thoughts and feelings. It would not be as consistent if I divided it into smaller pieces.

And also, there were questions about the bold words. I talked about this at the beginning of the fic, but I guess you all skipped it huh =)) (Yeah I know if it was me I would also skip it, who cares about author's note lol). But the bold words are for me to learn vocabulary for the SAT upcoming. Those are really complex words (for me at least), and I need to remember all of them by the end of this May. So I'm trying out this new method for the vocabulary learning, and I post the fic here so that everyone might throw out advices about how bad my writing is (SAT also has writing). Sorry for the inconvenience. I hope you guys can put up with me throughout this fic.

Joseph would not admit that his **machinations** were flawless and clever, for that would be too **unctuous **that makes even he can feel the **carping **and **maladroit. **He did not even do anything, the victim fell herself. She was not drugged with the coffee he handed to her, but acted **impecuniously** without even thinking twice, as if she had lost all her hopes in the other offices of the kingdom. What an **amorphous** princess, if only she knew how to realize on people more instead of taking it all on herself, she would not have been lying unconsciously behind the cells like this.

That's right. After escaping from the real Brandon, Joseph has brought Stella back to Countess Cassandra's place, and received ordain to keep her in this **annex **built under the castle that resembles a prison so much. He is ordered not to **unfetter** her in any circumstances. However, judging the **pallid** expression of the prisoner, it is **unequivocal** that there is no strength left in her to even oppose, leave alone freeing herself under his guard. The **palisade** is quite unnecessary.

A few minutes later, she wakes up, probably having her strength revived already.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Joseph smiles radiantly, with such an innocuous tone that it sounds almost **incongruous** to the current **predicament**.

"Who are you?" Stella raises her eyes, staring at the silver-haired. The expression looks so familiar to her, yet she swears this is the first time she sees this face.

"Just an unknown." He shrugs, refusing to reveal his real identification, as well as what he did to her. "Ignorant will be more **palpable** for you."

Judging the **labyrinthine **eyes of hers, Joseph figures such a **sage** would not leave a matter alone without any **exposition**. Therefore, he tries to **digress**.

"I cannot tell you more than this, but there is **certitude** that you are now **annexed** here, princess." He looks around as to prove the obvious truth.

"Do you have any **animosity** against me?" Questioned Stella, still persistently sticks to the core.

"Princess, if you are so **presumptuous**, it will bring you away from the truth. You should not **extrapolate** that I am the one who kidnapped you and brought you here. Just because I am standing here guarding you as I were told, doesn't mean I am the **malefactor**. That is not a very nice **paradigm**, princess."

"You can stop **prevaricating** already. Even if you were the culprit, I do not give a damn." 

Stella stands up as she finished speaking. It is not because her **magnanimity** is too replete, but she just does not have enough mind to **censure** anyone at the moment. She has already known that Countess Cassandra is the one behind this. Based on the look of surrounding, this seems to be a new annex that she has yet set her foot on. When the Countess built this, she did not know.

"Hey you, **paradox**." She calls out to the guy.

"My name is not paradox. I don't even oppose anything." Argued Joseph, irritated at the new nickname he is given.

"I don't care. Where is this place?"

"That I cannot tell you."

"Fine, I will get out of here myself."

Stella huffs, then closes her eyes to get ready for another transformation. However, as she starts to focus, she realizes the **diffidence** in her saying that it will not success.

"What's wrong with this place? I cannot transform!" She clings on the cells, yells out to Joseph. She feels somewhat a **fallacious** atmosphere, though **inconspicuous**, but she knows.

"It is not only me who guards you, princess." Joseph answers, as placidly as he could. "There is a **malediction** as well."

Stella rolls her eyes. "Dark magic, great."

The silver-haired looks at the princess behind the palisade, curious at how fast she changes her personality. One moment ago, he thought she was just a zombie, a puppet doing the work **fanatically**, but now all he sees is an **overwrought imperious **blonde who probably could kick him anytime if the cells were not here. Will she **oust** him out of the country if she knew who he is?

But from the look of it, being an **expatriate **to him is still way too lucky then. There goes the **pristine** princess of his dream.

"What are you looking at?" She **upbraids**,** chary** towards him. "I am not in a good mood right now. Don't make me unfetter myself and tear you into pieces. I can do that."

Joseph almost feels the need to rub his eyes carefully to believe that what's happening in front of him is not any **chicanery**. What's with this **choleric** and **fastidious** princess? He has checked meticulously her personalities before approaching her, and yet, what is this girl he's talking with? Is this really the quiet princess who has **sequestered **herself after her father's **malady**? He finds himself too **dilatory** to catch up with these **chimerical **changes.

"I said, STOP STARING!"

Stella yells, and lifts up her leg. The kick is wonderful.

"How insolent, you dare ignore the **paramount** of the kingdom? You're death!" She curses **unwittingly**. The cells have awaken her, telling her what kind of situation she is in. And she figures – or believes – that the only thing she could do now is to get the kidnapper – whom she knows for sure is this man – to be sick of her and let her out eventually.

Looking down at Joseph hugging his stomach in pain, she feels a bit of guilt, but soon casts it aside.

"Oh, tired already? What's with this **indolence**? Are you just an **inductee** then? Judging at the fact that you dare put me behind this cells, you are quite** profane**, don't you think? If you believe you can avoid being **chastised**, then think again!"

Joseph looks up at the arrogant princess. Chicanery or not, he does not give a damn anymore. This **diligent** princess in front of him seems to be trying so hard to provoke him, then shouldn't he also give some feedback?

"Why must you be so **uproarious**, sweetie? It's just cells. Just a row of simple palisade, not much, right? In fact, I think it is pretty **prodigious** for you in there. So why don't you just enjoy your peace quietly? I volunteer to be your **sentinel** for the night."

"How can this **marred** place keep me away?" She moans. "Don't you have any aesthetic eye? Look at the ceiling, spiders have already started their work!"

"What a **serendipity**!" He claps his hands ironically, considers himself **indulgent** enough to be replying her like this. "Is this the first time you see spiders making their webs? You probably should learn how hard-working_ and quiet___they are."

Stella keeps quiet. Not because she succumbs to the guy, but because she realizes it is pointless to keep it like this, for both him and her.

"**Servile **bastard." She murmurs, not even bothered to keep the **urbane** image of a princess.

xxxxxxxxxxx

At that time, Brandon shuts himself in his room filled with darkness. No light is at presence, for he has blown off every single candle. Along with **inebriation, **the flashback of the kidnapping scene in his mind never stops. He sits still, staring into void, until a knock interrupts.

Frowned at the opened door, he looks unhappy and displeased, as if there is no more place for any **fervor** in him for anything in this world.

"What are you doing, buddy?!" Sky asks, hurries to his friend's side. "What's with this sorrowful aura? Turn on a **dirge**, and people would have thought someone died here!"

"My inner soul." Brandon replies, doesn't even bother to look up.

"Then get it back, you **parochial** head! What do you gain from sitting around like this? I know that you get upset for not being able to protect her, but this situation is **feasible**! You shouldn't even have been there!"

"And so should she!" He speaks up, **circuitously** expresses how **inept** he was. "What was I even thinking? And do you know what's worse? It was another ME holding her! I was the last person she thought she was with before fainting!"

Sky keeps silent. He cannot find any words to comfort his bro right now.

"Just when we got some light and hope back in our relationship! I should have known! I should have known that a **proletarian** like me, could never manage the responsibilities of staying by her side! Our love is **felicitous** to wither, in one way or another without **parity** from both sides…"

Before he could continue the whining, Sky lands a good punch on his face, shouting. "What's with this **inertia**? So unlike of you! If you are so **fickle,** no wonder why you do not deserve her! Know how to **discern **what is your fault and what is not, Brandon. You are not responsible for every single damn thing."

Brandon, unable to **parry** the surprise attack, lifts up his hand to touch the swollen cheek. He does not censure his best friend, because he knows he deserved to be hit. The he right now is **flagrant**, and he knows that if he does not start to **solicit** any plans, he will regret it for the rest of his life.

"You're right, Sky. Sorry for being so **vapid**, my face must look so dull right now."

"Not trying to **solace** you or anything, but I glad you have come to your right mind." Replied his friend, circuitously as a "you're welcome".

"I'm glad to have you by my side. It would be so miserable if I were to be a **maverick**. Just thinking about how **prosaic** I could have been makes me grimace." Brandon lets out a sigh of relief, and stands up to get some ice. "I just wish you had used a softer method."

"My duty is to **proscribe** you from going off track." His friend shrugs innocently. "You should have been more **circumspect**, that's all. It's not like I'm waiting for a thousand-year opportunity of hitting your face, you know."

Brandon glares at Sky, acknowledges the **finesse** in his words. However, he really hopes his friend is just joking. Sky is a great **proponent**, for which he is very grateful, but an **appeasing** one would still be better than a violent one.

"Now that we have cleared the **pathos. **Do you have any strategy in your mind to save your precious princess waiting in the cage that we have absolutely no idea where it is, Mr. **Clairvoyant**?" Asked Sky, half joking half serious.

The squire **meanders** back and forth in the parlor, trying to come up with something. He has set out the resolution not to lose her right now, not in this moment, not today. He must win this **skirmish**.

"Don't **circumscribe** anything, Brandon. I'm ready to embrace your craziest ideas." Sky **abets** his friend. Not that it will help anything.

"I am trying! Nothing **arable** comes to my mind!" Stated Brandon, massaging his temples. This is going to be hardcore. "We must act carefully. The Countess is surely **inexorable** right now, and she should be able to spot any **discrepancy** in our moves. We must not alert the **adversary**."

"Pardon me, my friend. Note that I have no intention of making you **abdicate**, but do you have any idea about Stella's current location?"

"Should not be somewhere tangible in the palace. Not the prison. That is **inexpedient** for sure. Nor the Countess' parlor, I checked."

"Do you think she is brought away from the palace then?"

Brandon stops pacing for a few seconds to consider the possibilities. It would not be wise to repudiate something that can happen even if it is only for 5%, but they must narrow the scale as much as possible.

"Let's put that in **abeyance**." He suggests. "We should search if there is any underground base or the like. I am not a zenith in this kingdom, so I don't know if we can somehow get the map."

"Want me to call Bloom and the girls?" Sky looks at his friend, already holding up the cellphone.

"Calling reinforcements?" Brandon smirks, **acidulous** but with an obvious excitement. "We are _so not___playing fair."


	6. Chapter 6

_Again, I'm very sorry for the __**bold**__ words. I hope you guys don't mind. _

Disclaimer: I do not own Winx Club.

After the success in snatching the palace's grand map, the Winx meet with the Specialists in Stella's parlor.

"If you guys don't want to be here," said Brandon, turning to the boys. "It's okay to just get back to your room and get a good night sleep. This is entirely my own selfishness to call you out here anyway."

"Damn right." Riven murmurs with his usual **acerbity**, and is ready to get out of the door until he receives a fiery glare from his beloved girlfriend.

Musa tugs his sleeve **apprehensively**, and smiles:

"Yeah, of course our Riven would not mind just giving out a hand to help his friend, right _honey_?"

The Specialist, half wanting to really get out of this mess and half not wanting to have any more fights with his girlfriend, **vacillates** a bit, before finally giving in to Musa. **Affliction **still hangs on his face, but he stays anyway, and just gives out a single nod to Brandon.

"Thank you very much." Answered Brandon gratefully to Riven, but more likely to Musa.

"We would not mind a small adventure." Timmy smiles, raises his thumb up to show the enthusiasm, with the rest of the Specialists **acceding **to his words.

"Oh wow, look at all the **adherents **you have!" Sky chuckles, patting his friend's shoulder. "Who would have thought the **affiliation **would **aggrandize** so fast?"

Aisha holds up the map, the excitement is tangible in her voice. "I can already visualize the **aghast** expression on the Countess' countenance. Now ladies and gentlemen, let's get down to business."

When it comes to strategies, no one is better than these students of Alfea and Red Fountain, for they have been lectured and tested over and over about this, to the point that they can easily invade a building even if they close their eyes. Tecna scans the map and spots an annex near the Countess' parlor, which at first glance can be mistaken for an **alcove** of the room.

"If her theory is true," said Timmy after she has explained. "Then even the possibilities of the underground of the parlor being **abysmal** are not small. Therefore, keeping a girl down there should be no problem."

"But her parlor **abuts **the King's, where there are many guards. Would the Countess be so careless?"

Considering Bloom's question, there is a somewhat obvious answer already.

"Don't tell me…" Musa looks up to the girls, hesitating to say her thoughts. She would not want to mention the worst scenario, and words can somewhat be a jinx.

But Flora finishes it anyway.

"The Countess has… **alloyed **the palace's security?"

"What?" Asked the guys, clearly not able to make out her **allusion**.

"What she means was the Countess might have controlled the guards around the King already." Musa finally speaks up. "As an **accrual** to this, we also do not know how many we must fight against. Thus we cannot hurt the innocent."

"True." Tecna nods, placing her device on the table. "We also cannot leave out the possibilities that the number is **affixing** as well. Who know what kind of people she will reach? Soldiers, then what? Officers? Last time, she has controlled the King, and I doubt she would not do it again this time."

"With Darkar's help." Aisha reminds her friend, causing the tech-savvy girl to look back at her with confused eyes.

"Are you implying…?"

"I would **circumvent** that possibility. He is probably in the **abject** prison right now, at the **acme** of the mountain. Besides, he is **acidulous** enough not to use a pawn twice, and I believe the Countess would **adhere** with him after her unwilling **abnegation** last time with this partner."

Bloom **allays** her friends. However, she cannot deny that their plan at the moment is still **amorphous**. If they keep this **amble**, they would not be able to complete their goal.

"Okay people." Riven sighs, finally join the conversation. "Cut the lengthy part, and stick to the core. What are you going to do now?"

His **angular** attitude might sometimes set others on fire, but judging the **celerity** of the circumstances now, it is actually **palatable** for them.

"We must get into this annex." Brandon answers, hoping that speaking out loud their priority will somehow help a genius plan to come up. "And rescue Stella."

"Then do it!" Riven replies, throwing his hands into the air with a pissed off expression. "What are you waiting for? Who cares about other parties? We will just beat them up. Who cares if there is a master controlling the puppets behind the curtains or not? Just get into the freaking annex! Oh gosh, I cannot even believe you people!"

There is absolute silence in the **ambience** after the impatient Specialist's **acrimonious **'speech'. Everyone seems to be too shocked to even make a reaction. Until Sky cracks a chuckle.

"What?" Clearly irritated, Riven snaps back.

"What **adage**." Sky smirks while lifting his hands to form a chain of separate claps.

"Oh so now I get a slow clap?"

"No!" Musa giggles and tugs her arms around his shoulder. "It was great! So you actually can say something **cerebral**!"

With his face **adorned** in shades of red, he can only mumbles 'whatever' slightly.

"Anyway, what Riven said is absolutely right." Brandon shakes his head, dragging the whole team back to the topic. "We should adhere to the rescue first. Wandering around that would only bring us **aftermath**."

Suddenly Musa raises her hand before exclaiming excitedly.

"Oh, oh! I know! How about we girls all come to the guards and **allure** them? I mean, although we do not have Stella by us to help with the clothes thing, but we can still **accouter **ourselves with something. We are girls after all! We can **accost** them as if nothing happened…"

"Rejected." Brandon answers. He does not need to consider this a second time. Judging his situation and how it **addles** him not to being by his girl's side, he doubts if the rest of his friends can endure putting their girlfriends on the frontier.

"Hmph!" Feeling somewhat offended, the purple-headed girl turns away. "You don't have to be so **acrid** though."

"Don't worry, Musa." Sky smiles, consoling her in his friend's place. "He is just trying to say that you are more suitable for an **aggressor**. We cannot let you girls do such dangerous things."

"It's not like we are doing some missions like **amputating** our body or anything **analgesic** like that. It's just a seducing matter." Obstinate as she is, Musa still gives out her _comment_, but this would be the last one.

Brandon knows that as well. He does not want the whole group to break into **altercation**. They are now **meager **of time, and he would not waste it.

However, just as he is about to speak up again, the wooden door to the parlor opens ajar, and the **infamous** Countess walks in.

He did not know that one can freely walk in to a princess' parlor like that, but obviously the wicked woman standing over there is indifferent to this.

"Oh?" Raising her voice as if she is surprised, the Countess greets them. "How rare to see all of you up this hour. What could you bunch of strangers be doing?"

If he could, he would say the Countess is the exact **archetype** of Cinderella's step-mother, except for the fact that Stella is already a princess.

"Nothing much, Ma'am." Bloom slightly lowers her knees to show courtesy, noticing it is now in deed very late at night. "One of our friends is a **somnambulist**, and she just happened to wake all of us up. If we hadn't been here to stop her, she would probably have ran around the castle and **clamored** until every single guard is wide awake. It was such a close call."

Countess Cassandra nods her head, though little did disbelief leave her eyes.

"Keep this **arcane**, ladies." She speaks with a **patronizing **manner. "We would not want a rumor about the princess befriending some **flippant** fellows who don't even know how to sleep right."

"Certainly, Ma'am." Bloom nods, still as serene as ever, though her friends behind her back do not feel the same. But they all understand that enduring this is the best choice at the moment.

"One more thing. There will be a **caucus** tomorrow." Cassandra turns around to look at those who are in the parlor before she decides to leave the room. "Due to the **paucity** of time, the runaway of the princess shall be put aside, and the officials will now focus on more important events. As acquaintances of the **venal** princess who has abandoned her responsibilities, you lots are invited to come to the caucus, as the last memories of Solaria before being **extradited**."

"What?!"

"Good night."

Before giving them a chance to even **flout** the information, the Countess disappears behind the door.

"Did she just say… that they believe Stella is running away?"

The gang look at each other, confused by the **mendacious** words they have just heard. None of them is a **soothsayer; **however, all of them feel that this will not turn out pretty.

"Has she just come over, knowing that we are all planning something, to fluster us?"

Flora asks, as she is not trying to give out any more theories to the situation it is right now, but she cannot help but doubt every single thing. She is not an **ingénue** to start with. She keeps getting the feeling that the Countess has already known it all, and was just trying to **flaunt **to them.

"Cannot leave out the possibilities that all the caucus she has proclaimed is faulty, either." Tecna commented, having a not less confused expression on her face. "It could be just a trap to set us up."

"Enough."

Brandon sighs, shaking his head. He cannot take any more than this. Strategies or not, he could care less about what the Countess is up to.

"We are breaking in, and that's final. Whoever steps in our way, we will just have to face them head on. **Peccadillos **won't matter that much." He **infers**.

"So you mean we are breaking in like idiots with immense strength?" Timmy paraphrases his friend's words, albeit in a more blatant way.

"What an **archaic** method." Riven snickers at the back. "But effective."

Catching Brandon's glance to ask for permission from the rest of the group, Sky shrugs:

"Hey, she is your protégé, man. And this is your plan. Whatever you decide, we are cool with it. We will go with you until the end."

"Thanks." Brandon smiles gratefully. "So that's how it is. We will start our break in tomorrow noon."

_A/N: Phew, finally another chapter. I feel like I'm squishing my brain, since I have never been able to complete a fiction. Yes. Never. I always started them and then left them somewhere in the twist. But I really want to finish this one (partially because it is related to my studying as well), so I will try to break it down short. Please review if you have any comments about the plot, the writing styles or anything else (including paragraphs, I have been trying to shorten it, but I'm not sure how it went, so please tell me)._

_Thank you!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Hi guys! It's me again. I have just figured out how to edit the files I upload (how stupid of me though), and therefore I'm trying to edit the format of the fic, since I find it hard to read with all the paragraphs sticking together so close. (I don't know if it looks any different on the phone, but on PC it looks ridiculous). _

_Anyway, thank you for those who gave me reviews. I am trying my best to both improve my vocabulary and my writing with this, and since lately I have embedded myself with classic novels, it might have affected my writing style. I hope that for the better though._

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Winx Club.

_**Chapter 7**_

"Hey, the courteous gentleman over there."

Stella calls out to Joseph, who is now sitting at a small table at the entrance of the annex. Night has fallen, and she sometimes catches him dozing out due to lack of sleep. She cannot blame him though, even she herself feels sleepy, but yet the agitation keeps her wide awake.

"What?" He growls with subtle annoyance.

"Why don't you sleep for a while? I will guard the place for you." She speaks with a **mellow** tone. "Come on, this place is very comfortable. I even have a bed."

True, though odd enough, she has a bed with a fuzzy blanket behind the palisade. She does not know if it was the Countess who felt somewhat affinity for her that she left this warm thing, or if it was a mistake that someone thought this is actually the place for some guest to sleep. Although it seems to serve as a prison, the place looks ostentatious enough to be considered a guest room.

"Dream on."

Joseph replies, his tone sounds stiffer than the first time she saw him. Part of the reason probably is because he does not have anything left to hide anymore, with her being behind the palisade. The rest of it might be the sleepiness he is suffering.

He moves aloft to get the keys, and stuffs them in his pocket as if he fears her potential **artifice**.

"You are prostrate, man." She still refuses to give in. "Look at those bags under your eyes, how could you endure such horrible things?"

"Same to you. Your face looks very ugly right now, and if you do not shut up, I swear to make it uglier."

Someone is not in the mood, she figures. Finding it futile to say anything further, she sits down, back to the palisade and starts knocking slightly on a small rock.

Her **soporific sparse** knocking sounds make him even more frustrated.

"Stop it, or you won't even know what **clemency** is, woman. I can use **vehemence** anytime, and believe me, you would not want to find out how strong I am."

"Oh how scary." She mumbles, nearly mocking him. "Even though you say that, it sounds **fly-by-night**. What a man of words…"

"What's your problems?"

He snaps back, obviously irritated. It was not her initiatives to make him **inimical**, but she has always been good at provoking people, even if she did not mean to.

"Don't be so **sophomoric**, it's just a joke." She shrugs, looking at him with a **disinterested** **veneer**, hiding the slight amusement.

"The sophomoric one is you!" He stands up abruptly, knocking the poor chair over. "Would you stop that attitude? Where has your serene self gone? Is this how a princess supposed to behave?"

"Too late for you to realize that." She replies **articulately**, not hiding anything from him as well. She did not intend to hide, it was just the mood had not been good for her father's illness. But having been imprisoned for several hours, the obstinacy is crawling back.

She does not want to sound too much a **protean **person, so she avoids saying anything else.

"Women." He murmurs, annoyance has not once left his voice ever since she spoke up. "**Fractious** creatures. They see men as **pellucid** so easily, yet hide themselves so carefully."

"Do you feel like a dolt?" She grins, causing him to snicker lightly with sarcasm.

"Not a chance, when a girl is being captured by me."

He has his point, though now she has known that the efforts were **purloined **since he did not really do anything. But such matter is **venial** to her right now. They could debate about it, and no wins are guaranteed.

"Hey." She speaks after a few minutes of silence.

"What?"

"I'm bored." She replies with dispassion. "Do something."

Joseph – now leaning against the wall – raises his eyebrow with a disbelieving look. Did this girl just _command_him to _do something_? From where has she got this **mettle**?

"Don't be ridiculous." He coldly replies, not letting her **puerile** attitude to get too carried away. "This is a prison, may I remind you, not an **asylum** or a playground."

"Are you always this **staid**?" She places her hands in front of her chest, resting her forehead on the palisade while staring at him.

"Are you always this **verbose**?" He mimics her tone in return.

"…No."

He raises his eyebrow again, but this time to prove that she is an idiot to ask such question. The ambience once again falls into silence, though this time Stella seems to be **pensive**, as if she is really taking his words to heart.

"Tell me about your past."

He looks at her, opens his mouth about to speak up, but pauses for some seconds.

"It's an **insipid** past." He answers, putting the chair back to where it used to be, albeit not sitting down.

"Can't be more insipid than what I am doing now." She rolls her eyes, using a tone as if he is some kindergarten kid. "Come on, don't be shy. Consider it as a prison talk."

"What the hell is a prison talk?" He asks, churlishly but not as brusque as before. Somehow, talking to her has **assuaged **him, as well as the exhaustion.

"You know, what is said in a prison, stay in the prison." She says matter-of-factly.

Joseph lets out an unintended chuckle. "You have just made that up."

"Stop digressing and start the damn story."

She orders, but this time he does not oppose, except that he demands to hear her story first, with the reason that it would be **peerless** if one gets to hear about the other's past, but not getting anything back.

"I am a princess, **coddled** in the arms of my parents ever since I was young. I grow up, still a princess." She replies, partly with **veracity**. "End of story."

The mercenary sits still for a moment, as if waiting for something more.

"Wow." He finally speaks up, realizing that she is not planning to open her mouth anymore. "You didn't go so **assiduous** in your story, did you?"

He receives a simple nod in return.

"If that's the case, then I am a man, born somewhere in this universe."

The frown on the princess's face shows that she is not satisfied with that **inscrutable **answer, either.

"How **ascetic**." She complains.

A wide grin spreads on his face triumphantly. "It is by no means **specious** though."

Only a small 'hmph' in return, as she turns away, leaning her back against the cold palisade. He also does not speak anything else.

It has been from the start that her plan is to distract this guy. She knows her friends will come to rescue her for sure, they have never failed to do that. And Brandon, too. She wonders what he is doing right now, knowing that she is out of sight. Would he come to rescue her like a knight rescuing a princess? Will she be like the heroine in the fairy tales?

How sarcasm it is, for this _is _a fairy tales in some way – she is a _fairy_ after all. It's just that she has always been the one fighting against the antagonists. She does not feel like a girly princess who is waiting for the prince at all. Sometimes she even wishes all of her **fortitude **vanish away.

Joseph's voice interrupts her attempts to **collate** all the needed characteristics of a mainstream heroine.

"Okay. Let's leave the joke, and get serious." He makes it sound like he is in **coercion**, but she can still spot some excitement and curiosity in it."I will tell you about my past, with complete veracity, and no **spurious** craps. But you will do the same."

She is not sure how far this will go, but since her past seems not to be **furtive** in any means, so she has no reason to refuse.

"Go for it. But it's a prison talk."

"Whatever." He laughs blithely, before starting his so-called insipid past story. "I was born in **penury**, in a small village not near from here."

"Whereee issss itttt?" Stella **drawls**, stating her obvious curiosity, which is demanding to heed a more **percipient** story.

"Far down the South." He shakes his head before continuing. "It was near a **quagmire**…"

"Wait, our kingdom has a quagmire?"

Irritated at being interrupted again, Joseph rolls his eyes. "Yes, it has several quagmires, if you not know. Now would you just-?"

"Okay, sorry. I will shut up."

Still pausing for a few more minutes to make sure that she will not stop him again, Joseph looks at the princess. She does not know that there are quagmires in the kingdom? She's the princess! How is she not able to grab the whole geography of her own kingdom? Is she that spoiled?

As for Stella, she is surprised at the fact that her kingdom has quagmires. She has not been back in the palace for long, ever since she is accepted to Alfea. Fighting and battling takes up much of her time, she hasn't any time to pay attention to anything else.

She will definitely go on a tour after this.

"Continue, Mr. I-don't-want-to-be-interrupted." She urges, realizing the silence has been too long.

"Right, sorry. As I was saying, I grew up in a small village near a quagmire, down in the South, where there is hardly anything to eat or drink. You can still sometimes get water from the wells, but it's scarce, and therefore every time I went, I always** quaffed** as fast as possible. Others would beat me up if they found out how much I drank.

"My father was a **dotard**, and a drunkard. He would spend the whole day betting and drinking, and would come back in **vertigo** at the end of the day, and our family would be hearing his **vilification** for the rest of the night."

"What about your mother?" Stella speaks up. Not that she intends to interrupt him, but his speed of giving out information makes her so impatient.

"Oh, she's worse." He puts on a sad smile. "She was the most **dogmatic** woman in the world. Everything in the house revolves around her. She would make me and my brother go out the field and plough all day, and we would be under her surveillance for the whole day. She would not leave out a single **furrow**, and would punish us if we make any mistake."

"Gosh…" Stella gasped. Of course a princess like her, despite how much she has been on battle, would not know the suffering of the poor. "How old were you back then?"

"10. My brother was 6. We were both pretty much **docile** and **pusillanimous** back then. It's not like if we put up an **insurgent** we would come out safe and sound. And we did not want to be addressed as **ingrate**, either."

A subtle pain hits her chest. She cannot imagine how harsh it would have been to have such a mother taking care of you. She might not have been some child who was immerged in the love of both her father and her mother, but at least her mother was kind to her. How **pejorative** it must have been to the poor children who did not receive enough passion from their parents!

"The situation was exasperating back then." He continues. "I have come to adopt a severe hatred towards women, and my brother suddenly had this **pyromania."**

"I didn't know you used to be a **misogynist." **She responds.** "**But what is this pyromania?"

"The continuous urge to start a fire." Stella looks at him with disbelief. "It does exist. It was due to stress at such a young age that he had it. The consequences were not pretty."

She swallows hard as he mentioned the consequences. His eyes turns into darker shades. Tries her best to keep her voice normal, she asks, nearly fears to hear the answer. "What …did he do?"

"Burning our house… was not enough. The fire was put out, but no one knew what caused the fire. They should have found out. At least before he started aiming for the whole village…"

"No…"

"It was the **perdition** of my village. The only **vestige** now is black ashes with sluggish complex from the quagmire. Everyone died."

He lowers his voice at the end of the sentence, regarding the sorrow for the people who have surrounded him. His family was not a happy one, but she guesses his mutual feelings still lingered inside him.

"I'm sorry." She replies, somewhat **colloquially** to the one who should be now considered her enemy. However, at the moment, there is no place for antagonism in the ambience.

"Don't be." Joseph shakes his head, bringing his body to the floor, as his feet has been **attenuated** with all the pain in the past. Remains sitting, he asks. "Are you able to continue listening?"

Realizing that she has shown too much emotions on her face, and most of them is probably fright, Stella snaps back **peremptorily**.

"I command you to continue whatever you are trying to finish. Don't underestimate a princess. She has great enduring abilities. And she is a great listener, too."

He chuckles, doubting how many percent of truth there is in her words with such personalities that he has witnessed. But indeed, she has been a great listener tonight. He just needs someone to share his pain.

"I was the only one survive. At that time, I was going to another village, trying to escape from the drunken father and the cruel mother. However, I was still naïve at that time, and could not find my ways to survive. So I came back, just to find the whole village on fire. I immediately understand what has happened.

"My brother is no longer to come back alive to **vindicate**, but I'm pretty sure that was what happened. Not his fault, though. He was just a child.

"From that point, being homeless and alone, I slowly **mired** into crimes. I met with bad people, stole for food and drink, clothes also. I wandered from village to village, not knowing where to stop. I needed not a place to stop anyway. No one needed me anyway. I was fine the way I was."

"Is there anything **auspicious** for you in the whole story that you are going to tell?" Stella interrupts him, but considering the time that she has _not_, she still feels that it is within her courtesy.

"Why?" He asks in return. "Are you going to stop me if I say no?"

"Is there?"

"No."

"Okay, you can continue." She answers, **stifling** the depression inside. Damn, if only she had not heard such a sad life, she would not be feeling so down right now. And what's with the sympathy? How is she supposed to fight against him when she gets out of this?

Speaking of which, she has totally forgotten about the time. What time is it? Is it morning? Is it still night? Curse the annex for being underground, that she would not be able to distinguish day from night. Last time she only found out due to the guy over there mumbling about his dinner time.

Meanwhile, Joseph finds it completely **drivel **for her to ask such **intermittent **question. But since nothing can create more **quandary **than the current dilemma, he continues anyway.

The whole annex falls into silence again before he begins to speak up. Stella sits still as a statue. She might be too tired and exhausted to move, or it is truly her characteristics to be so serene. Her beauty – he would not deny it, tired of **misrepresentation** to himself – along with the whole prison things, puts up such a **quaint** yet sad **vignette**. Nevertheless, he finds it **droll** enough to satisfy him that the heroine's fate is now being **commandeered** by him.

"At first, my **peripatetic** life did me little favor. Having been a **compliant** pawn to my mother, I could not handle the new life so suddenly. Though I would always claim that I need not a place to settle down, deep down in my heart, I know I wanted it. And I struggled hard. I felt lonely, I felt **morose**. The more properties I stole from people, the more **stolid** I was to the **mundane **world. Nothing satisfied me. Everywhere I looked, I found little attraction. Life is **peripheral **to me at that time, so much that I often wondered why God even let me survive through that fire incident." He is almost **droning, perpetuating** her to wonder if it is because he was trying to stifle the pain, or if it is because his heart has already turned stone.

Joseph shifts his gaze away from the torch on the wall, and looks at her, drollness in his eyes almost glittering.

"Sorry for being a **querulous** ass, keep **rambling** about myself."

She blinks at the **quirk** towards himself about being **garrulous**. Surely he has done quite a lot of talking, but what's wrong with that? She believes that everyone has the right to mourn over their sadness and austere, even if it means hours and hours talking nonstop.

Or he is just feeling a bit awkward now that he has told something that reveals the weak side of him.

"A **concise** story would be boring anyway." She replies, albeit not directly at whether he was truly querulous or not. "**Banal** craps would have developed some kind of **aversion** anyway."

"Why?"

"It would sound fake, don't you think?" She sits down on the furry bed, waving her hand in the air. "You would have sounded as if you are trying to **dupe **me with your imaginary sad life. Most people don't have it that way. They would either be in your father's position, or in some random tenant of the village who know only of mocking others."

"That's a bit **vitriolic**." He smirks, not sure if it is due to her compliment of him being veracious or just a **strident** comment right from a royalty was already enough to **conciliate **his rancor. He was not in good terms with the villagers after all. "Is it how a princess should talk about her commoners? It would be **pernicious** to you if people hear it, you know?"

"I could care less about what people think." She hisses. "Lazy ignorant fools, **gamboling **all day, abandoning work and their families. And when it comes to **garnering **tithe, they would not succumb and take their responsibilities, but start forming** ramifications **and talking nonsense, making **vociferous** riots just to receive whipping. What injustice? The only injustice thing here is their **inveterate** dependence!"

Putting his hand under his chin, Joseph still remains his posture. He has started to enjoy this argument, though it shows the **irascible** side of the princess when talking about her people. "You are not talking about _everyone_, I suppose?"

"No, but the main component of society. Women and children should deserve better than those drunkards."

He nods in approval. Perhaps questioning her authority in leading the country has somehow **stoked** whatever passion that she has towards the people, either it be rooted in her alone or passed down by her father the King, but he feels she would make a great queen. Unlike Countess Cassandra.

The Countess, who he is working for. The one who has commanded him to capture this **intrepid** and strident yet **invidiously** beautiful princess that he is speaking so casually to. He wonders if what he is doing is right, and if he should really be doing this at the moment. But then again, nothing in his life has ever seemed to go right, so he decided to act **perfunctory** towards the questions in his mind. What **momentous **right now is he keeps the princess in sight, and that she is not to escape from the annex. Other than that, what he does in the time being should not matter.

"What about you?" He raises question, trying to **balk** his thoughts to wander any further. "You have not told me fully about yourself yet, have you?"

"How persistent of you." Stella complains. The distance between her and him – which Stella has created as if to **quarantine **her **gaunt** countenance resulted from sleepless nights - prevents him from seeing the wide grin on her face.

"Hey, an eye for an eye." He shrugs. "There should be no **intransigence** in this, now that I have told you everything about me."

"Was that everything? Sounds like half a story to me."

"One's life is **interminable**, princess." He replies, hands over his hip, not really happy about the fact that she still keeps her part shut. "Now you will spill the beans, or I make it my **quarry** for the next few hours of me staying here with you. You already know how persistent I can be."

Stella pauses for a moment, dwelling the entire place with complete silence again, before she **vivifies **it with the **germinal** tone of a child.

"I am a **persnickety **princess, living in **voluminous** place with **garish** jewelries that you could never dream of." She blinks her eye, as innocent as an angel, before her giggles betrayed her own acting.

"Get serious, princess." Joseph rolls his eyes. "Stop **ranting,** and say something **stupefying **to me. We both know you are more than whatever you have just tried to **garble**."

Not that she wants to go against her words and be treated as **perjury** or whatever, but she would not fancy seeing his sympathy towards her, or anyone else's.

Though she does feel somewhat guilty for the sadness in her eyes during his story earlier.

"Don't try to ignite my **ire**, princess." He speaks up, tapping his feet impatiently at the floor. She has been silent again for too long.

"Sorry." She replies as soon as she realizes the situation. Although he keeps **goading** her, she cannot seem to find any **germane** words to put it. "I… My mother left since I was very young."

"The queen?" Joseph raises his eyebrow, not at all **grated** by her slow speed of talking.

She simply nods her head, a few strands of her blonde hair falls over her forehead, making it harder for him to see her expression.

"She left, just like that." Stella continues, her voice sounds distant. It sounds sad, but he finds her even more** personable** this way. "No one ever told me why. I never asked. I don't want to know. I don't need to know. My mother has **effaced** every of her belongings from this palace, or was she forced to, but none of that matters. Knowing more would only **befuddle** me. I have decided to take over the throne no matter what, there's no need to be **confound**ed by trivial things."

That is no trivial thing, he thought. Being away from your mother should never be a trivial thing. He bets she cried a lot. She is just afraid to admit it, that she **waived** the pain, gave in to society and put on a mask.

Just look at how she **wanes** from the King's illness, he could already imagine her back then.

"It's okay to talk. What's said in the prison, remains in the prison after all." He continues to encourage her. Not that he is trying to **raze** every single piece of her heart open, but he finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from the princess. Something wrong has gotten to him.

She **balks** for a while, before starting to confess everything. Mostly everything. How miserable a child she was, or how much she missed her mother, and how she often cried out in her mother's parlor, hoping that she would come back. And how the Countess started coming and creeping into her life, along with her contradictory daughter, whom she can never get along with. How her father was an **effigy** of her life, but he has disappointed her so many times. **Myriads **of **effusive** emotions. Her **bastion **seems to have broken down, to let all that she has endured until now.

However, refusing to let emotion get the better of her, Stella **congeals** her heart and finishes with a joke:

"And somehow she gets trapped in a lame prison with a stolid guard. How unfair life could be, what does **egalitarianism **even mean, if a princess cannot have at least some handsome man to guard her?"

"Well sorry to have disappointed you." Joseph puts up a grin, disbelieved at the fact that she waved away the burden so fast. "But your prince is not here for you."

"Then I shall wait." She declares. "Now that I have finished talking, my stomach feels empty. Could you fetch…"

"Here." He throws an apple to her even before she finishes her sentence. He was not sure why he did that, but his hands moved on their own accord. It must have been the little righteousness left in his heart that decide to, since he cannot stand starving a lady to death.

"You are quite **mutinous**, aren't you?" She asks, questioningly catches the apple with her palm. "This could be considered **perjury** to the Countess now that you are feeding the prisoner, you know?"

"Give me back the food then." He demands, hands already reached out.

"No way."

The princess replies, biting her first bite into the apple, feeling its sweet juice drip over her taste bud. Oh how she missed this sensation. It has been days since she can eat something so delicious, for the previous days she could only focus on work and mourning over her father. But now, she feels somewhat relaxed in the cell, which makes no sense to her at all. Stupefied, she takes another bite, unable to stop herself. So this is what they call starving.

"Eat slowly, you **voracious** princess. You will choke at this speed."

Joseph warns her, and lets out a chuckle after he hears an annoyed and almost audible 'shut up'. The moon has only reached over the top of the mountains. The night is going to be long. Not like he wishes it not to be though.


	8. Chapter 8

Back in the palace, the meeting request that Countess Cassandra proposed has been **ratified** by the elders, regarding the matter that no one is to take the throne at the moment. There is no explanation why they would put up with the solution of making Chimera the queen, but it seems that the Countess has been able to **beguile **them.

"That woman is never out of **subterfuge**." Musa hisses, as she puts on her purple boots to get ready. They are all changing from flashy princess-like gowns into their missionary outfits, which they favor more. "Evil seems to be her **congenital** characteristic already."

Bloom looks up, and though she does not want to **begrudge** anyone, she has to agree with that statement.

"There's nothing we can do, right?" Aisha lets out a heavy sigh, the annoyance is almost palpable. "Like the Trix, the evil root has planted deep inside their heart."

"The world just has this **nefarious** side to it that we must accept."

The girls nod in **consensus.** But then again, a too peaceful life would not be so worthy to live anymore.

A knock on the door interrupted the trace of **perspicacious** thoughts towards the possibilities that one day there will be no more evil, and what they would be doing now. A fervent smile on Sky's face appears as he pops his head in.

"Ready?"

"We should jump in before Stella gets sick of the tedium in there." Aisha cracks a joke in reply, and follows the rest of the girls out.

"Hey."

Joseph pokes Stella with a stick he found near the cell. The princess turns her body **onerously**, making a **contorted **face.

"Let me sleep…"

"You've been sleeping for hours already. Was that not enough? Is it **prevalent** that all princesses are this lazy?" Continuing his poking method, Joseph frowns. Something is not right. She looks even more **jaded **than yesterday after sleeping.

As Stella's breathing speed seems to wax, turning heavier and heavier, he reaches his hand through the cold cells to her pinkish skin.

It's hot. It's freaking hot, to the point that nearly **petrified** him.

"Hey you!" He calls, and curses when she mumbles some **nebulous** sounds back, still shutting her eyes.

Joseph stumbles out to get a **receptacle **of water. He feels an unexplainable fear through his body, unsure why he would be so **gratuitously **good to a prisoner. The half of him that **negates **this **subversive** act is trying to fight back the fear of her being **imperiled,** and he has never felt so **belied **before. He endeavors to blame her **geniality** towards him the night before, that she bewitched him somehow, but it is only **elusive **– he cannot think of the **altruistic** princess that way.

Shifting his focus back to the princess, Joseph carries her head closer to him, doing his best in spite of the metal cells between them. He carefully pour the spoon of fluid into her mouth, hoping she would not spill it. He cannot break the cells anyhow – the Countess could come any minute, and he would not risk exacerbating the situation.

The **stigma** of her fever turns obvious, and weightier as she starts to sweat, her body temperature feels unbearable through his palm. How much water is suffice? He does not know. He knows nothing about taking care of a patient. Leave a lone a princess helplessly panting in front of him.

However, there is one **sheer** thing that he knows for sure: he is in love with her now. And his **covets** for her would not subside so easily, for he is afraid of what he would do without these cells separating them.

Gently drying a piece of wet fabric, Joseph puts it on the princess's forehead. What is her name again? Funny how he was captured by her **salient** pure smile, and heard all about her past, yet he seemed to stay ignorant about her name.

Stella, he thinks. He remembers the Countess mumbling and cursing her names in ire, but he never had a single bit of interest back then. All he cared was the **perquisite** he can receive after this, and then he would fled the kingdom, to some other land and earn another amount of money there. Not falling in love with some girl like a young teenage boy.

She turns her body again, making blonde long strands of hair veiling her face. Joseph reaches out again, putting the hair back in its place, carefully as to not awake the princess.

"Brandon…"

He stiffens at the name. Isn't this Brandon the one he has transformed into? Right, he remembers it now. She has someone she likes. And he even imposed that person to lure her. A sudden urge of jealousy **whets** in him.

A deafening sound bursts out, alarming him of a **raid** from outside. Joseph, now **unencumbered** from his tangling emotions, places his hand ready on his sword.

"Stella!"

A brown-haired fellow rushes in, and Joseph recognizes him right away. Half **abash** in recalling her mumbling that guy's name, half agonized in imagining what they do together as a couple, Joseph kicks open the cells. As the metal pieces being **spurned **away, he picks up the princess, holding her firm in his arms. Surely the Countess would not mind him taking the prisoner to a safer place, in case of an invasion.

"Keep your filthy hands off her!" Cries the other lad, his eyes filled with anger.

Irritated by the **apparition** that this Brandon seems to be also in love with the girl as much as he is, Joseph tightens his arms around her waist. The princess still feels hotter than ever, and he knows for sure it does her no good to stay in this battle.

Shoving into his pocket, Joseph pulls out a small jar of purple liquid – a spell that he always carries in case of emergency. He cares no more for his safety or his perquisite anymore. At the moment, the only thing matters to him is this frail girl.

Smirking in **complacency** to hide his **wistfulness,** Joseph lowers his head, and places a gentle kiss on her soft blushing cheek.

"A good luck for me from Her Highness," he whispers, before pouring out the purple spell on the ground, and drops the princess through its gate.


End file.
